


Touch Me I'm Going to Scream

by pepperlandgirl4



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pon Farr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:25:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8272772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperlandgirl4/pseuds/pepperlandgirl4
Summary: Established D/s relationship. It's time for Spock's pon farr and Jim takes him away from the Enterprise to give him exactly what he needs.





	

Spock requested medical leave and a transport to New Vulcan. He officially cited personal reasons, but privately explained he didn’t want the entire crew of the Enterprise to witness—or be at danger of witnessing—the changes wrought by _pon farr_ Jim’s first impulse was to deny the request. Not because he ever wanted to deny Spock anything, but because of his own safety concerns. Their quarters were familiar, safe, and secure. A change in venue could introduce a whole host of problems that he didn’t want to deal with and Spock wouldn’t be capable of handling. But it came down to a question of logistics. If he insisted on keeping Spock on board the Enterprise, he would have to send everybody else away. No matter how secure their quarters, Spock would never be able to relax his guard when in such close proximity to four hundred and thirty other people. So he set about making the proper arrangements. 

Spock never questioned him. Jim could have chosen the quad at the Academy at high noon, and Spock wouldn’t have questioned him. Of course, Jim didn’t select anything remotely public. He found a nice moon not far from New Vulcan, with appropriate lodging (though the deposit was a little excessive in Jim’s opinion). The official logs showed the colonized planet as their final destination, but they were safely ensconced in a remote house. They had room to move, safety from curious eyes and ears, and solitude. Spock was pleased. 

They parted ways as soon as they reached their final destination, both of them with their own preparations to see to. Spock shut himself in his room to meditate. Jim walked by the closed door more than once. The green light above the entry told him the door wasn’t locked. If he wanted to see Spock, he didn’t need an invitation to enter the room. If he wanted to do more than simply see his Vulcan, he wouldn’t need to give any kind of warning. Spock was ready for him, any time, night or day. But even if he didn’t have the self-control necessary to stop himself from barging into Spock’s room, he did have the ability to focus on his task. And considering the importance of said task, he wasn’t going to let anything distract him. Not even the thought of Spock’s slick, nude body. 

They met again the next morning at seven hundred hours. Spock stood in the entry way, completely naked, waiting for Jim’s invitation. He stood at relaxed attention, his hands behind his back, his cock already hard against his stomach, his skin flushed green. He looked rested from his meditation, but at the same time, he was clearly on edge. There was a certain tension in his shoulders and the way he held his head. Jim could already feel a difference in the air. They had done this a hundred times before, but somehow, that all felt like practice. Like they were just actors rehearsing their parts. But now opening night had arrived, and Jim wanted to be perfect. He _needed_ to be perfect for Spock. The room itself reflected that desire, right down to the painstaking placement of all his tools and toys. 

“Come,” Jim said softly. 

Spock immediately complied, entering the room with long strides. As soon as he reached Jim, he dropped to his knees, his head bowed, his hands clasped behind his back. His entire body ached for Spock’s, but he held himself back and simply dragged his finger through Spock’s hair, brushing it away from his brow. 

“How are you feeling? Has it started?” 

“It has, sir.” 

“Are you in pain?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Tell me if you experience any unusual pain.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Spock, I’m only going to ask you once. Are you prepared for this?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Jim released his breath slowly and nodded. He trusted Spock to be completely honest with him, which meant he had to take the Vulcan at his word. Jim knew he was ready. He’d spent months preparing for this day, devoting as much of himself as he could to the research—hands-on and otherwise. He knew what Spock needed. He knew what he could give Spock. There was nothing left to do but begin. 

“On your hands and knees.” 

Spock obediently dropped forward. Jim circled him slowly, studying the perfect canvas of his back. His skin was flawless. Jim hadn’t used a whip or a strap on him in over a month. He’d locked all of the whips, floggers and paddles away, keeping the temptation out of his reach. It’d been hell for both of them, but it was totally worth it to see Spock so ready for it now. His skin stretched tightly across his taut, flexed muscles, though Jim had to marvel a little at just how thin his frame was. So much strength was hidden away in his deceptively thin body. He could break Jim in two if he wanted to. Jim’s mouth watered and his fingers tingled. This would be as difficult on him as it was on Spock—though he doubted Spock would believe that if Jim mentioned it out loud. 

Jim crouched beside him and closed the stainless steel collar around Spock’s neck. He loved the way it looked against his skin, and he’d spent more than one sleepless night debating whether he should order Spock to wear it at all times. Just the sight of it made Jim hard, and his cock pressed against his pants, straining for release. He attached a long, thin chain to the collar, straightened, and gave it a gentle tug. Spock immediately moved, following Jim as he led him to the St. Andrew’s Cross. Another sharp tug had Spock on his feet, and he silently pressed his chest to the cross and spread his arms and legs, waiting for Jim to lock him into place. 

Jim took his time securing each cuff around Spock’s wrists and ankles. He carefully avoided touching Spock’s skin, though he longed to feel the heat radiating from his flesh. His temperature was naturally higher than a human’s, but when he got really excited his skin flushed so hot that Jim thought any contact would scald him. That’s when he would press even closer, as though he was trying to fuse their bodies together. 

Once Spock was secure, he stepped back to study the situation. Spock could break away from the restraints if he really, really wanted to. He’d done it before in a moment of great arousal. The thought made Jim a little nervous, but just a little. Soon, hormones and endorphins would be flooding Spock’s body in greater and greater waves, obliterating the logic Spock prized so highly, and then stripping him of the human emotions he secretly needed. With his higher logic consumed by passion, and his great strength magnified by the hormones slicing through his blood, nothing would be able to hold him in place. Except Jim’s word, and what if that wasn’t enough? What if that could never be enough? 

Long minutes crawled by while Jim stared at Spock’s body. He could look at the Vulcan for hours and hours, mesmerized by his beauty. Spock didn’t fidget. He didn’t even shift his weight. He stood perfectly still, in no way revealing the turmoil beneath his skin. Without taking his attention from Spock’s body, Jim stripped his clothes and tossed them aside. He grabbed a stiff whip from a nearby table, and then approached Spock. Without making a sound, he lined his cock up with Spock’s ass and allowed the very tip to brush against his curved cheek. Spock tensed and sucked his breath in at the hint of skin-to-skin contact, and Jim realized that the situation had progressed much further than Spock had let on. 

With the slick head of his cock buried between Spock’s cheeks, nudging against his tight hole, Jim dragged the tip of the whip down Spock’s spine. He’d have to step back if he really wanted to put his arm into the flogging, but he didn’t want to hurt Spock. He just wanted to bring the blood to the surface, to stir the fires he could already feel smoldering in Spock’s flesh. A little pain would do that quicker than all of the caresses in the world. Jim flicked his wrist and brought the tip down on Spock’s shoulder. The Vulcan twitched, but didn’t cry out. 

“I don’t want you to make a sound,” Jim warned. “If I hear so much as a whimper, I’m going to stop and leave you tied to the cross for the rest of the morning. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Jim had long ago learned that the secret to breaking down Spock lied in forcing him to exert even more control over himself. He loved to hear Spock whimper and moan with abandon. He loved it when Spock was so far gone he didn’t even care what sounds he made or what words spilled from his mouth. But Spock could never just get there on his own. He needed Jim to show him the way—a task that Jim was more than happy to perform. 

He stepped back, separating his body from Spock’s, and brought the whip down on the back of his neck with startling precision. Spock twitched, but remained silent. A thin string of blood rose up from the fresh cut, staining his flawless skin green. Jim watched as more and more gathered, forming a tiny bead before rolling down his spine, centered perfectly between his shoulders. Jim flicked his wrist again, and within seconds another drop of blood joined the first on its downward journey. He knew which spots would hurt the most, which corners of Spock’s skin were most sensitive, and he made no special effort to avoid hitting him there. 

Not every crack of the whip drew blood. Jim alternated between breaking the skin and simply forming long, hot welts across the flesh. He truly did see Spock’s back as a canvas, and every time he used the whip, he wanted to create something new. He wanted to see a reflection of his own emotions in Spock’s skin. He wanted Spock to be marked, branded, with Jim’s desire so he would never forget it. Because it was that desire that informed every sharp crack of the whip. The pain he inflicted was entirely secondary to the desire to shape and form Spock’s flesh, to claim it, to make it his. Sometimes the instinct of _possession_ frightened him. Spock wasn’t an object, he was Jim’s superior in some ways and equal in others. He was beautiful and intelligent. He was perfect. 

Except when Jim marked him with the whip. Then he wasn’t perfection personified. He was flesh and blood, he was carnal, he was finally reachable. It was in those moments that Jim truly stepped into his role, shedding his insecurities and fear, choosing to be the man who deserved Spock’s unwavering trust and devotion. 

By the time he finished with the first beating, Spock’s body was streaked with green and his thin body was trembling with unvoiced pain. Jim tossed the whip aside and covered Spock’s hands with his own. Their fingers naturally entwined, and he pressed his chest to Spock’s sensitive back, sliding against the tender and broken skin, spreading Spock’s blood and his own sweat across their skin. His cock nudged at Spock’s ass again, feeling even harder than before. Every time a drop of fluid rolled onto his length, his cock jerked, which only served to drag his damp head across Spock’s skin. 

Jim buried his face in the crook of Spock’s neck, licking and nibbling at the skin, catching the occasional taste of salty blood. He found a clean patch of skin and pulled it between his teeth, sucking hard to form a dark green and blue mark. Spock tilted his head to the side, and his body rumbled with silent moans. Jim snuck his arm around Spock’s waist, flattening his palm against Spock’s stomach, massaging the taut flesh as he found another patch of skin and suckle on. He inhaled the scent of Spock’s dry skin and the earthy smell of his shampoo and soap, letting it swirl around him until he was heady with it. 

His hand moved lower, letting his fingertips scrape across Spock’s cock. The skin was pulled so tight that he knew the snag of his nails would be enough to get Spock’s attention. He stiffened, but remained silent. 

“You’re so hard. Do you want to come? Don’t speak.” 

Spock nodded. 

“I can tell. I’m not going to let you. Do you hear me? No matter what I do, you do not come until I tell you. Understand?” 

Spock nodded again. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” 

Spock hesitated for a moment, then inclined his head. Under normal circumstances, Jim would give in right then and fuck Spock until they were both utterly spent. But this wasn’t normal circumstances. Jim wanted to push Spock right to the very edge. He knew he was playing with fire, but that was part of the thrill. 

“I think I’ve got something for you then.” 

Jim forced himself to release Spock and take a step back. His own skin was stained with Spock’s blood now, and his cock was covered in pre-come, more leaking from his slit with every beat of his heart. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he walked right to it without a second of hesitation. The dildo he chose wasn’t huge. He didn’t want to use something that would hurt Spock, he just wanted to see his tight flesh stretch around it. He wanted to see Spock’s thighs and ass quiver as he struggled to hold it in his ass. He wanted every breath of air and brush of contact across the shaft to vibrate up Spock’s spine and wrapped around his throat. 

He slicked the synthetic cock with lubricant before pulling Spock’s ass apart to expose his clenched hole. Jim smoothed lube around the opening, briefly pushing his finger into the tight channel. The heat immediately engulfed him, and it was literally all he could do to pull his finger free and replace it with the dildo. He worked slowly at first, nudging the tip past the ring of muscle, working it back and forth in small circles until the head finally disappeared. It had been weeks since he fucked Spock, and the Vulcan’s body reflected that fact. But once he had the first few inches inside, it was easy to slide the shaft into Spock’s passage, all the way up to the balls. 

“Now that’s nice. I’m sorry you can’t see this, Spock. I really am.” He leaned forward and kissed a path along Spock’s ass. When he reached the last inch of cock sticking out of his body, he licked it, wiggling it with his tongue. Spock shifted, and for just a moment, it sounded like he was going to moan. Jim moved his mouth down the cock—which did feel remarkably like real skin—until he reached the point where Spock’s flesh stretched around the toy. He traced Spock’s hole with the tip of his tongue, sighing softly against the warm skin. 

He felt Spock’s mind pushing at his consciousness, demanding entry. There was something wild about it. Something desperate and out of control. Jim strongly suspected that Spock had lost all the control he had over their bond. Just another part of _Pon Farr_. Jim resisted him for as long as he could, focusing all of his attention on tasting as much of Spock’s skin as he could. But finally it was too much to resist. He felt a crack in his mental shields, then another, and another. Then the dam burst and Spock filled his mind, rushing into occupy the space that was rightfully his and had been denied to him for too long. 

_Oh Jim…Master…Sir….Sir…please…please….please…._

Only one word in five made any sense to Jim. Most of it was in the Vulcan tongue, and the bits that weren’t were all jumbled together in an incoherent mess. It reminded Jim of rain, falling with no real purposes or goal, bleeding together, mingling to form trails and then puddles. And like any rainstorm, the occasional word or feeling would splash through Jim’s mind like a cold drop hitting the tip of his nose. He lifted his head and put a firm hand Spock’s back, centering both of them. He knew he wouldn’t be able to silence the noise in his head, but he did need to pull Spock back from completely losing his mind. 

“I think we might need to take a little break, Spock.” 

The disappointed whimper was so loud that for a moment he actually thought Spock broke the rules. But as it continued to echo in his head, he realized that Spock hadn’t made a sound yet. Jim stood and stepped back, considering his options as Spock flexed his ass. 

“I’m going to undo the restraints,” Jim said. “As soon as your free, I want you on your knees.” 

_Yes, sir._

Spock was quick to obey, but this time when Spock knelt at his feet, it was different. Before he could tell the Vulcan was excited, but not in any overt away. His body hadn’t yet betrayed him. Now Jim could see way he shuddered with each breath. His pupils were dilated into twin black moons, and his mouth was set in a compressed line. He wasn’t breathing normally, either. Each inhalation was a short, quick gasp, like he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. Jim tenderly caressed the side of Spock’s face, running his fingers over his cheekbone and the high ridge of his nose. He hooked his thumb in the corner of Spock’s mouth and gently pushed his lips apart. Spock’s eyes were locked on Jim’s as he closed his mouth around his thumb, sucking gently on the skin. 

Jim used his other hand to guide his cock to Spock’s mouth. He didn’t need to speak a word. Spock knew what to do as soon as the damp head brushed across his lips. He moved quickly, striking like a predator, silent, with purpose. He wrapped his mouth around Jim’s cock and swallowed him down to the root. He closed his eyes and his long lashes were dark against his flushed skin. Jim cupped the back of his head and held him in place, with his mouth at the base of Jim’s cock. 

“I’m going to fuck your face. Keep your mouth open and don’t move.” 

Jim closed his eyes while Spock’s enthusiastic reaction washed over him. He was always eager to please and quick to act, without a single hint of resistance. But he could tell it wasn’t so easy for him now to submit to Jim’s desires. There was something hard and cold in his mind. Something that pulled against the chains keeping it in place, shouting for release, straining against its bindings. The raw intensity should have intimidated him. When Spock lost control—which was Jim’s only goal—the thing that would be unleashed would be strong enough to crush them both. Spock feared it. He feared his own strength and his own hunger. He feared what could get swept up into the frenzy. In fact, they were there precisely because of that fear. 

But Jim wasn’t afraid. 

He gripped the sides of Spock’s head and eased back. He set a slow pace at first, prolonging the contact for each exquisite inch. He loved the way his cock disappeared into Spock’s mouth, and loved watching Spock’s throat bulge with each leisurely thrust forward. Pleasure rushed through, the strong currents meeting together and flooding his system. Not all of it was his own. The telepathic bond between them seemed to be burning with it. It flared brighter each time he filled Spock’s throat, spurring him to move faster, harder. He’d promised himself he wasn’t going to come too soon, but it wasn’t long until he forgot about that completely. 

Spock remained still, his spine straight and rigid, his neck locked no matter how hard Jim pounded his mouth. He could see a war in Spock’s dark eyes, though. Normally, he would be quite content to let Jim fuck him that way—even let Jim use him as long as it brought him pleasure. But his blood was stirring now. Jim could actually feel the heat of the growing fever. It radiated from Spock. But he couldn’t stop at that point. Even if he wanted to—even if he needed to—he wouldn’t have been able to stop. The base of his spine tingled and then there was nothing he could do but grip Spock’s head, holding him in place as he pulled free of his mouth and shot his load on Spock’s face. He painted his cheek and mouth with the long strings that clung to his skin. 

“Don’t wipe that away,” Jim ordered, dragging the tip of his cock across Spock’s mouth. “I like the way it looks on you. Stay right here.” 

He sounded calm, like he was still in complete control, but it was all he could do to walk away from Spock’s kneeling form. Spock didn’t move, but Jim was no longer getting any words from him at all. Language had completely devolved into basic sounds and emotions. Most disturbing of all was the sense of static, the sound of waves pounding against a beach. That wasn’t what Spock was thinking about at all, but Jim’s brain couldn’t conceptualize it as anything else. It was the most innocuous sound Jim could imagine, but it still sent chills down his spine. Because it wasn’t so much the sound of anything but the absence. Absence of thought. Absence of words. Absence of logic. 

It was all Jim could do to leave the room. He didn’t even spare the Vulcan another look. He only went as far as the next room, where he busied himself with pulling the sheets back from the mattress. His thoughts never left Spock. He imagined the other man kneeling in the center of the room, the fire in his blood burning hotter and hotter until nothing remained. When he returned the room, Spock would be gone. Who would be kneeling in his place? What would keep him in place if he was no longer thinking clearly? 

That’s what it all came down to. That was why they were there. That was why they hadn’t even been able to talk to each other the night before. Because they both knew the risk they were about to take. Both of them were taking a major leap of faith, and that sort of thing came far more naturally to Jim than it did to his lover. He trusted Spock. He trusted Spock no matter what. Even if it wasn’t logical. Even if it was downright _dangerous_ , he trusted Spock. At that moment, he trusted Spock to remain exactly where Jim left him, bound only by his order. And when he entered the room again, he trusted Spock to remain exactly where he was until ordered otherwise. 

Spock didn’t trust himself. Without the carefully choreographed ritual of the _kun-ut-kal-if-fee_ or the presence of a life-long bond to prepare the two of them, he was sure he’d harm Jim at the least. He hadn’t said _kill_ , but it wasn’t difficult for Jim to read Spock’s greatest fears, even if he wasn’t probing at the link between them. This was their first _pon farr_ together, and Jim had no intention of letting it be their last. The only way to convince Spock that the two of them had nothing to fear from the experience was to _show_ him. 

Once the bed was ready, Jim shifted his attention to the things they would need after they were finished. Spock would be utterly depleted, and would probably want to meditate alone. Jim, however, would need food. And a lot of it. He also made sure they had the medical kit that Bones had prepared and silently handed to Jim before they boarded the shuttle. As far as Jim was concerned, it was always a good idea to have something like that on hand, just because things had the tendency to get rough between them. Still, he made sure it was out of plain sight in case Spock still had the capacity to notice the small details around him. 

When he was finished, he carefully prepared himself for Spock, using two fingers to lubricate his ass. The roar from Spock’s mind was getting worse by the second. A few concrete images were beginning to crystallize. They were all disturbingly violent, drenched in blood and sweat and come. They had the same texture and fluidity of the memories Spock had shared with him, but Jim knew that these couldn’t have been Spock’s experiences. There were no distinctions between the moment of death and the moment of climax. Fucking and killing were the same act. Bloodlust. The word had never been so applicable, nor had it made so much sense. That’s what gripped Spock. And Jim genuinely believed blood would be the only thing powerful enough to satisfy him. 

Jim knew he should have been shocked and disgusted by every increasingly gory, increasingly sexual image assaulting him. And a part of him was. But another deeply buried part of him responded to it on a primal level. The Vulcans had once been savage warriors, absolute in their violence, complete in their horror. Spock was two thousand years removed from that culture but the instincts were still just below the surface. Jim’s savage roots were much closer to him. He could almost touch them. And they responded just as swiftly to the call of war and conquest, to victory and domination. It was no way to live, and Jim wouldn’t want to be a slave to his worst instincts—no more than Spock did. But there was still something seductive about it. 

Jim gathered up what he could of his self-control and carefully schooled his features. He wanted Spock to believe he was still in complete control of himself and the situation. That became even more important when he stepped into the room and was hit with a wave of hungry desperation. Spock’s shoulders were slightly slumped, his hands still behind his back. His breath was coming in fast, hard gasps, and his eyes were rolled back in his head. Sweat covered his face, mingling with the come still on his skin before rolling down the line of his jaw. 

“Spock.” 

The Vulcan looked up sharply, pinning Jim in place with his coal-dark eyes. Jim froze, his instincts telling him to run while his cock throbbed in response. If he did run, and Spock gave chase, that would be it. He wouldn’t get far. But why would he want to run? They both wanted the same thing. Jim took a step forward, and Spock tensed even more. He looked like a predator ready to strike—a coiled snake ready to spring forward. The fact that he was completely naked didn’t diminish the danger. If anything, it only contributed to the sense of dread. 

“On your hands and knees.” 

Spock obeyed, moving stiffly. As soon as Jim was close enough, he hooked the chain to Spock’s collar. The simple act sent a strange pang through his chest. It felt wrong, somehow. It had always been a gesture of love before, but now it felt more like a clumsy declaration of ownership. Who could ever hope to lay claim to somebody like Spock? Was he losing his stomach for domination? Or did he just want to be the one submitting for a short time? As soon as the thought occurred to him, he knew it was right. They had never switched before. Spock had never indicated he wanted to, and Jim had never felt the need. 

He tugged at the chain and Spock followed like a well-trained dog. Jim kept looking down, watching the way his muscles moved and flexed beneath his skin. He could literally feel Spock’s strength through the taut chain. He felt light-headed trying to reconcile the strength he knew Spock possessed with the deceptively calm creature at his feet. The thought of submitting completely fled his mind as he marveled at the power Spock so willingly gave him. The brutal images were still filling his mind, but now they were countered by the equally violent emotions flowing from Jim—a love that could have been destructive in the wrong hands. 

“Do you want to fuck me, Spock?” Jim asked, once they were near the bed. 

“Yes, sir.” The answer was simple, the words straight-forward, but it wasn’t the truth. At least, not the whole truth. Jim felt a tug on their bond, and then he was bombarded with images and sounds and tastes and emotions and textures. Spock didn’t want to just fuck him. It was almost like he wanted to consume him. 

“Get on the bed. Lay on your back.” 

He almost thought Spock was going to ignore him. Jim didn’t know what he would do to punish overt disobedience. There was nothing he _could_ do, except hope that Spock didn’t actually lose his mind. But Spock complied after a tense beat, climbing onto the high, wide bed and positioning himself in the center with arms above his head and legs spread. It was the customary pose for that order, and the fact that Spock had remembered made Jim’s heart swell in new ways. 

Jim straddled Spock’s hips, reaching behind him to guide the head of his swollen cock to Jim’s entrance. 

“Look at me, Spock.” 

Spock did meet Jim’s gaze, but his eyes weren’t entirely focused. His flesh had never been hotter, and if he hadn’t already known about the _plak tow_ , he would have been worried that Spock was actually ill. It was almost uncomfortable to touch him, and Jim’s own body burned in response. 

“If you move even a little bit, I’ll stop. If you touch me, I’ll stop. You may make noise, but no requests. Understand?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good.” 

Jim sank back just enough to allow the tip of Spock’s cock to enter him, the lube skin stretching to accommodate his width. Spock’s face twisted with pleasure-pain, and the body beneath him was so tense that he thought Spock might literally snap in two. Jim wanted to thrust downward and impale himself on Spock’s length, but this was a test for both of them, and Jim didn’t want to be the one who failed. He held himself perfectly still, his flesh clenching around Spock’s throbbing crown. Time stopped. His breath stopped. Spock’s eyes flashed dangerously, and Jim’s heart skipped a beat. 

He sank down another half an inch. Spock was the only thing Jim could see clearly, and he realized that it was the endless roar, the great absence of logic, the tireless hunger enveloping him. The sweat on his brow was unreasonably cool, and he realized in a distant way that he had a fever, too. He jerked away from Spock, trying to put a reasonable distance between them, but Spock’s hand shot out. He held Jim to the bed effortlessly, his eyes burning. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Spock…I have a fever, too. What’s…that’s not supposed to happen.” 

“It’s the _plank tow_.” 

No further explanation was forthcoming. Maybe Spock thought that was explanation enough. Or maybe he wasn’t capable of anything further. It didn’t really matter because his cock was lined up with Jim’s ass again. Jim caught his breath, waiting to see what Spock would do. He concentrated on the bond, and this time he didn’t hear a soundless roar. He heard a heartbeat. After a moment, he realized it was his own heartbeat echoing in Spock’s mind, counting off the seconds. When everything was stripped away, layer by painstaking layer, to expose Spock’s core, all that was left was the sound of Jim Kirk’s heart. 

“Spock.” 

“Yes, sir?” 

Jim pressed a hard kiss to Spock’s mouth. “Fuck me.” 

The words were hardly uttered before Spock gripped him by his hips and pulled him down onto his cock. Pain and pleasure blended in an eruption of sparks. Spock wrapped his other arm around Jim, holding him tightly and pumped his hips. They moved together, grudgingly sliding apart and then frantically slamming together again. Jim didn’t want to lose an inch of Spock’s length. He didn’t want anything to separate them. Their mouths met again and again, their tongues sliding together. The mental connection strengthened with each thrust, amplifying the sound of the heartbeat until it surrounded them and their hips moved to the rhythm it set. 

The world tilted, everything turning upside down. Jim only realized why when he felt the mattress at his back. Spock rose above him, his skin glistening, his hair plastered to his skull. Spock quickened the rhythm, drilling into Jim with hard, short thrusts. Jim, for his part, could do nothing but hold on. Spock was moving hard enough to cause some pain. It was always present, just on the periphery of his awareness, easily ignored, easily overwhelmed by the accompanying pleasure. 

Jim’s cock was trapped against his stomach, Spock’s body sliding against it with every stroke. The friction was exquisite, but it was the heat that nearly did him in. Spock bombarded him with images again, but these were substantially less violent than the earlier ones. Now all of the flashes were far more personal. There was blood, but it was all Jim’s, flowing from broken skin to stain his back and thighs. Come painted his face and chest. His skin glistened and he looked nothing less than debauched. The images were powerful on their own, but the fact that Spock wanted him that way—that he even had the capacity for such desire—sent what remained of his blood rushing from his head. His fingers tightened on Spock’s arms, and he entwined his legs around Spock’s waist, holding on because he knew he would fly apart if he didn’t. 

He felt his cock jerk against Spock’s stomach, and then the warm liquid covered them both. He clenched around Spock’s cock, bearing down on his length. He thought that would be enough to push Spock over the edge, but his rhythm continue uninterrupted, relentless. Jim tried to catch his breath, but each hard thrust seemed to knock it out of his lungs. The pain he had only sort of noticed before seemed to get worse as Spock continued his assault against Jim’s battered body. _What is left? Why isn’t he coming? What do I need to do? He wants to. I can feel it. I can feel…I can…_

“Spock…You can come…” 

The command was the trigger Spock had been waiting for. His seed splashed against Jim’s walls with hard jerks, and his whole body shook each time he drove forward. His cock didn’t soften, though. The shaft throbbed inside of him, his pulse echoing through Jim’s tender flesh. Jim buried his face against Spock’s neck and held him, waiting for everything to normalize. After several minutes, he felt a tentative pull on their link. 

_Jim?_

_Yeah?_

_Did I hurt you or cause you any discomfort?_

Jim smiled. “No, not at all.”   
_I do wish to apologize._

_For what?_

_I did not wish for you to see the sort of thoughts that plague me during the blood fever. I had no intention of…disturbing you._

“You didn’t disturb me, Spock.” 

_I find that difficult to believe._

Jim kissed Spock’s damp skin and sighed. “Spock, that wasn’t you.” 

“An illogical statement,” Spock said softly, and Jim realized why he had preferred to communicate through the bond. His voice was rough, each word jagged with emotion. He could keep his inner voice even, but his body betrayed him. “Of course that was me. The thoughts originated with me.” 

“No,” Jim countered, “the thoughts are as old as time. Which is why the Vulcans needed Surak and logic. And as you’re so fond of pointing out, humans are quite emotional and even barbarous. It’s not remarkable that you have them in the first place. It’s remarkable that you’re able to control them at all.” 

_I might not be able to control myself much longer._

_Still got that old blood fever, huh?_

Spock lifted his head and he was almost smiling. “No. It’s just you.” 

Jim responded the only way he knew how—with a long, slow, sloppy kiss. His mind kept returning to the moment he told Spock to come. They would never discuss it. They would never need to. But Jim knew he would never forget it. Nor would he forget the spreading sense of warmed satisfaction as Spock’s words sank deeper into his flesh.


End file.
